


Expect the Unexpected.

by LadyCorvidae



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, PWP, Unexpected houseguests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCorvidae/pseuds/LadyCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thunderstorm watching takes an interesting turn when you suddenly are playing host to a prince of Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expect the Unexpected.

The lightning is a product of the heat, you're sure. But it's still nice to watch. Especially the comforting rumble of the thunder that follows. You've loved watching storms, ever since you were little. A bolt of lightning flashes down, practically the next street over, nearly blinding you, and the thunder is so loud that it shakes the ground, actually knocking you over. When you right yourself again, you see someone standing at the end of your walkway through the now-pouring rain. He's tall and muscled, his hair long and golden, clad in leather, bright armor and a bright red cape flowing over his shoulders. You're no slouch; you've read enough mythology to know who this is- Thor, the God of Thunder.

You don't know whether you should be afraid or not. Right now, you're pretty damn confused. Thor strides up to the porch and you slowly stand, wondering if you should bow or curtsy or something. After all, he is a god. 

"Midgardian," he booms as he reaches the porch. "I require shelter this night. You will grant it to me." His title is very fitting. You raise both eyebrows at this, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Excuse me? I _will?_ If you want a place to stay, then you need to ask politely. This isn't Asgard, Sparky-boy, and you need to be nice about it. When in Rome, buddy," you say. Then you groan. Great. Great. So much for making a good first impression. But he had just assumed and that annoyed you… his brows furrow, and you're sure that you're about to be fried into a crisp. Then, to your great surprise, he sighs. 

"Forgive me- Father has said that I lack… tact. I would appreciate it if you would provide me with a bed for the night, m'lady," he says. You nearly swallow your tongue in shock, but you have to recover quickly to give him an answer. 

"That was better," you say gently. "Yes, I will grant you lodgings for the night, my lord. I'm afraid it won't be much compared to what you're used to, but, while you stay, my home is yours." He beams (God… he's way too attractive when he does that) and you let him into the house, wondering just what the fuck you've gotten yourself into.

You debate on what to do- there's only one bed in your tiny house, and the sofa isn't comfortable. You sigh as he looks around, setting down a metal hammer that has to be Mjolnir near the door. "If you'll give me a moment, I need to prepare your room. I… wasn't exactly expecting anyone, much less a god," you say, feeling a bit sheepish. He nods and you scuttle off to change your sheets and agonize over where to shove all of your crap so that your room looks somewhat presentable. In twenty minutes, you have it done, a little red-faced and sweaty, coming back down to the sitting room where your… guest is meandering, looking at the photographs of your family that line the mantle and the bookshelves. 

"Erm… excuse me?" you say, feeling a little timid. Now that he's standing next to you, you realize just how big he is. Easily 6'5", he towers over you and you realize that he could crush your skull like an egg. He looks down and flashes a quick smile that does something to your insides and you swallow hard. "If you're hungry, I could make something for you. I don't know what you like, so you'll have to tell me and I'll do my best," you say. His eyes light up. 

"Excellent! I'm a bit hungry, yes. Some roast ox, if you have it," he says. You bite your lip. 

"Well, I don't have roast ox… but I do have steak. And garlic bread. And red wine- I was about to eat dinner when you showed up," you say with a small smile. He grins and you lead him, nearly skipping in your excitement, to the dining room. Thankful that you got enough steak for two (leftovers- mama didn't raise no fools, and that stuff was expensive), you serve him and pour each of you a glass of wine. He sits down and digs in heartily. And messily. You don't dare to offer him a napkin, but you find yourself doing so when he looks like he's about to wipe his hands on the table cloth.

When you finish, he beams at you. "This was excellent! It wasn't roast ox, but I liked it a great deal," he said, draining his wineglass in one go, the delicate stem looking very out of place in his large hand. You pour him another glass as he nods.

"Well, m'lord, I need to wash things up and get ready to sleep. I'll show you to the room and you can get your rest. You must be tired after so long a journey," you say. He nods, and you lead him up to your room. "I'm sorry it's so small, but it's what I have," you say, shrugging apologetically. He looks at you for a long while before he takes your hand in one of his. You start at the unexpected touch- his hands are warm and calloused, telling of the fighting he's done and the life he's lived; one of luxury, yes, but of hard work as well. He kisses the back of your hand, a courtly gesture that has you blushing furiously and your hormones to have a field day. 

"M'lady, please call me Thor- after all, I am a guest in your household. And you have clearly given up your own bed to accommodate me, which is unnecessary, while very kind of you. I am a warrior, even though I am royalty, and I am used to rougher lodgings. You needn't have left the comfort of your room for me," he says, and his voice is gentle. Your face burns more. 

"Well… I… I couldn't let you sleep on the couch, it's not nice. And it's not much, really. I'll… I'll go do dishes then. Good… goodnight… Thor," you manage to stammer. His reply is to bend and press a kiss to your cheek this time, which nearly makes you swoon. 

"Good night, m'lady," he rumbles, and you wobble off. Oh god. You're doomed.

You wake up early the next morning to birdsong and a crick in your neck. You curse softly as you shuffle into the kitchen to make coffee. You pause for a moment before you decide to make a full pot. If your… houseguest liked steak, then he might like coffee as well. You have slim pickings for breakfast food, though, and you frown as you set out a box of pop tarts. It wasn't hauté cuisine, but it would have to do. You hear footsteps behind you and you start- there he stands in all his glory, looking like he just stepped off a magazine shoot for some Medieval version of GQ or Fortune 500 or something. 

"Good morning, m'lord. I hope you slept well?" you manage to say just as you're sure the staring is noticeable. He turns that megawatt smile at you again. 

"Please, call me Thor, remember? And yes, I did. Your bed is quite comfortable, and I again have to thank you for it," he says. You blush and mutter an 'It's okay, really' before you busy yourself with breakfast, hoping that your bedhead isn't too bad and that you haven't drooled on yourself in your sleep. The coffee machine beeps, signifying it's ready, and you watch with a slight snicker as Thor jumps, looking around for the sound's origins. 

"Just the coffee maker. Here- you might like this…" you say and you pour him a small mug and add just a splash of cream. He takes a sip and his eyes widen. You wince, ready for him to spit it out, but he drains it.

"This drink… I like it! Another!" and he goes to throw down the mug, but seems to think the better of it and instead places it on the counter, upside-down. You full-on laugh as you get him (and yourself) larger mugs and pours him another one. You rip open a package of strawberry pop tarts and offer him one of those. He cautiously takes a bite and nearly inhales it, declaring it the 'food of the gods of Midgard'. He polishes off nearly the whole box, in between stories that leave you laughing and somewhat confused. He explains his Asgardian terms and you tell him a few of your own, that cause him to either boom laughter or to nod seriously.

After a time, you glance at the clock- it's nearly four in the evening. You're shocked- you've just spent the day in your kitchen, drinking coffee and eating pop tarts with a literal god, like you're best friends. He stands up, stretching, and you can't help but ogle the sight of him, taut with muscle. He catches you staring and drops you a wink, making your eyes go wide and you swiftly busy yourself with putting things away, feeling like a proper idiot. 

As you put away the mugs, he clears his throat. You turn to face him and sigh. "You're leaving?" you ask softly, and he purses his lips. 

"Not quite. I do wish to repay you for your kindness. I was rude at first, and you welcomed me, a stranger in this land, into your home and your goodwill. Not only that, but you fed me as well, food fit for kings," he says. 

"Its all right, you… you don't have to do anything, really," you say, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"But I must! It's not right if I neglect my host," he says proudly. He looks at you for a moment before walking closer to you, invading your personal space. "Please, m'lady… allow me to do this," he says. Your lips are parted and you look up at him (and up and up and good Lord he's _tall_ ), nodding. He grins again and bends and plants a kiss to your mouth. Your eyes go wide and you stiffen in surprise, but you quickly relax, winding your arms around his broad shoulders as you mould to him. He breaks the kiss, his bright blue eyes dark now, and he dives in again, the coarseness of his beard scratching your face, but you don't care. He's pinning you against the wall, then walking you backwards. You suddenly realize where he's guiding you, and your heart suddenly goes into overdrive. The bedroom. He's walking you into the bedroom.  
The two of you barely stop kissing, but you eventually break so you can breathe. He looks at you and takes off his shirt, and your knees promptly go weak. He has the body of… well… a god. He reaches for the hem of yours and looks into your eyes questioningly. "If you do not want this, I shall not press you," he says, and that makes your heart flutter.  
"Oh, I want it. Very much," you say, breathlessly. You strip off your shirt and it joins his on the floor, followed swiftly by your bra. He eyes your breasts appreciatively, reaching out and cupping them. His hands are so large that they fit easily in them, and he flicks your nipples with his thumbs, causing you to gasp. You reach out to touch him as well, feeling the warmth and smoothness of his flesh beneath your hands, the quiver of his abdomen as your fingers trail down his torso. He groans and you can see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers. You move your fingers over that, too, and he hisses, bucking into your touch. You stand and strip the rest of the way, now naked before him. He eyes your body hungrily before slowly removing the rest of his clothing. 

You can't help but stare. He's gorgeous and well… hung like a god. Even with how wet you are, you think you might have a bit of trouble fitting him inside you. He guides you to the bed and starts trailing kisses down your neck, sucking your breasts and making you cry out. You can feel his erection nudging against your thigh, and you open your legs to embrace him. He moves his fingers to your sex first, and makes a pleased noise at what he finds. He's no stranger to what a woman wants, for which you're thankful, and you keen as a finger finds its way into you, then two. He strokes and curls them, making you buck into his hand, and then removes them just as you feel about ready to reach your peak, wiping your juices on the sheets. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod- any coherent words have left you a while ago. He beams and guides himself slowly into you, taking his time to allow you to adjust to his size. When he's fully buried inside you, you can see the sweat beading on his brow. "By the Nine, you're so very tight," he murmurs, and he starts to thrust. For so large a man (god… he's a god…), he's a surprisingly gentle lover, taking his time with you, making sure he doesn't hurt or tear anything. 

You respond to his thrusts and he gasps in shock when you squeeze your inner muscles around him. That makes him lose a bit of his concern, and he starts using rougher thrusts, growling into your ear and muttering things in a language that you can't understand, but it makes you hot, whatever he's saying. Finally, his thrusts become erratic and his hand returns to your sex, working your clit as he begins to fall over the edge. You cry out his name as he makes you cum, and he roars his pleasure as he loses himself in the heat of your body, soaking your womb with his seed. 

Sated, he pulls out of you and you curl up next to him. "That wasn't the repayment I was thinking or speaking on… but it can most certainly be a part of it," he murmurs. You laugh and swat him gently on the shoulder.  
"If that's the repayment I get… I think you'll be staying for a while," you say. The look he gives you makes you warm inside, and you think that you'll have to be investing in more pop tarts. After all… it is the food of the gods of Midgard, and your lover certainly enjoyed them.

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first work posted on my own without a co-author on this site. Feedback is welcome, as is constructive criticism. Please and thank you!


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